JAPANESE JOURNALISTS COME in two basic types: status quo-oriented mainstream
media reporters who enjoy their privileged access to power, and independent
freelancers who consider themselves outsiders, but who are, in fact, part
of "respectable" Japanese society by birth. And then there is
Manabu Miyazaki.The son of a Kyoto yakuza gang 1eader, Miyazaki is a born
outsider.But an early exposure to Marxist ideology, and a gifted mind,
led him to Waseda University in the mid-1960s where he became a radical
leftist who never hesitated to resort to force when it came time to confront
authority.

Today, Miyazaki is a noted author and "outlaw" journalist,
perhaps the closest thing Japan has to the late Hunter S. Thompson. Feted
by veterans of the student movement who became respectable members of
the media establishment, Miyazaki is a regular on serious talk shows like
Tahara Soichiro's "Asa Made Nama Terebi," where his eloquent
speaking voice stands in stark contrast to his hard-hitting, groundbreaking
reporting. For Miyazaki was writing about issues like the yakuza world
and po1ice corruption long before anyone else in the tabloid, and certainly
the mainstream media.

Ten years ago, Miyazaki released Toppamono, his autobiography. The book
was a cult classic, especially among Kansai-area reporters, and gave readers
a view of Japan that was as alien to their imagination as any foreign
country.Happily, somebody at Kotan Publishing decided the book would attract
an enthusiastic foreign readership, and the English translation is now
available.

Miyazaki grew up in Kyoto's Fushimi district, where his house was the
headquarters for a local independent yakuza gang.It was a colorful household,
with all sorts of characters coming and going at all hours.As the favored
son, Miyazaki was treated with utmost respect(and fear)in Fushimi, but
that didn't stop him from getting into fights.At the same time, through
a friend of his father who was a committed Communist, the young Miyazaki
developed a strong sense of justice and of defending the ordinary worker
and those who are outsiders.

Miyazaki's Kyoto is not one of temples, rock gardens, and quiet elegance,
but of rough day laborers, foolish gamblers, tough prostitutes, pitiful
drunks, shrewd con artists-a classes dangereuses that respectable Kyoto
wanted, and still wants, no part of.This is the Kyoto Miyazaki loves,
but he doesn't hesitate to head to Tokyo to study at Waseda when given
the chance. Here, his radicalism is developed further, and he spends his
time organizing po1itical rallies and getting into fights.

From 1965 to 1969, Miyazaki and his fellow student-activists battled
the system, which culminated in a bloody showdown on the campus of Tokyo
University in 1969. But once the dust settled, Miyazaki saw that many
of his friends were simply "playing activist." The son of a
yakuza had become fed up with spoiled Todai and Waseda students who fought
battles totally divorced from "real world" concerns. The perennial
outsider realized that, in the end, his fellow students had no interest
in revolution because they were the ultimate insiders who would benefit
the most from the status quo.

Afterwards, Miyazaki drifted into journalism,becoming a financial reporter
for Shukan Gendai, a weekly tabloid. The job offered him a close-up view
on how Japan Inc. really worked and would serve him well years later during
the bubble economy period of the late 1980s. However, a family crisis
in Kyoto forced Miyazaki to abandon Old Edo and return to Miyako.While
his brother handled the "respectable" side of the family business,
Miyazaki conned and hustled whoever he could to keep creditors at bay.

It was the Glico-Morinaga Affair that gave Miyazaki his greatest notoriety.
In March 1984,the president of chocolate maker Glico was kidnapped in
his Nishinomiya home by two men wearing ski masks, who demanded one billion
yen in ransom. The president managed to escape unharmed, but the kidnappers
were never found.Glico then received letters from persons unknown saying
its products had been laced with potassium cyanide and the company was
forced to pull its products from the shelves. Over the following months
and despite a nationwide manhunt, the group eluded police even as it continued
to blackmail Glico-related companies.

But by the summer of 1984, police were closing in on the alleged ringleader
of the group, identified as the "Fox-Eyed Man." This mysterious
figure was spotted near the area in Kyoto where the blackmailers had told
Glico to drop off bags of ransom money. Police released a sketch which
looked remarkably like Miyazaki.In 1985, police and the media named him
as the culprit, despite s solid alibi and lack of evidence. But in the
end, Miyazakiwas never charged for the crime and today, he laughs about
the incompetence of the police investigators.

Miyazaki, by his own admission, is hardly a noble figure. But readers
looking for some sort of a mea culpa will, thankfully, be disappointed.
For Toppamono is neither an apologetic confessional nor a blatant self-promotional
tool.It is, rather, the story of one of Japan's most interesting characters
of the last half century, and a story of Kansai over the past few decades
that will utterly captivate those who live in the area, especially long-term
foreign residents whom may have thought they would never buy another Japan-related
book again.